


In which Gil learns a little history

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: blundering onward [20]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Multi, Post-Canon, ya'll asked for this and here it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 21:31:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13667691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: ...in one of the best ways to learn history in Mechanicsburg.





	In which Gil learns a little history

Mechanicsburg celebrated the betrothal of the Heterodyne’s consorts for an unreasonably long time. Music and dancing carried on at all hours, in all public spaces, and wine and beer flowed as freely as Gil had ever seen. Every time he left the Castle, townspeople showered him with attention, draped him in colorful ribbons and trilobite beads and painted snail shells. If he appeared in public with Tarvek, strangers clamored for a show of affection between them. By the third day, Gil had taken to avoiding Tarvek as much as possible. On day five, Gil fled to Castle Wulfenbach.

Upon hearing of the party going on, Bangladesh DuPree dragged him right back to Mechanicsburg.

On the morning of the sixth day, Gil decided to stay in his bedroom until the entire city forgot to be excited on his behalf. Castle Heterodyne decided to have none of that so-called nonsense, and dumped him out into the front steps in yesterday’s clothes. With a sigh of resignation, Gil ran his hands through his hair to tame it, and he slouched off to find something to eat.

Ognian flagged him down from across the square, probably to buy him lunch, as was apparently customary for the winner of the betting pool. That was the big secret: the Jägers had been placing bets on his future betrothal. Ognian and, surprisingly, Vole had walked away with an impressive amount of money. Gil meandered toward a free meal and a considerable amount more attention than he wanted. Oggie greeted him with his usual amount of cheer, enthusiasm, and friendly thumps, then fell to boasting that Vole had not yet managed to buy a meal for Gil.

Ognian chattered as they walked together, and yet he deflected enthusiastic well-wishers with an airy charm that even Tarvek would have envied. Gil watched with fascination until he spied a familiar hat a little distance down the street. “Hey Ognian,” he said, interrupting a riveting tale involving Maxim, a three-headed tortoise, and an inadvisable amount of kefir, “do you mind if Oksana joins us?”

Oggie hailed Oksana, who seemed disinclined to socialize until she saw Gil. With a tiny smile, the reticent Jäger fell into step beside them. No one named a destination, but no one was surprised when they turned up at Mamma’s. A roar of approval greeted them, and Gil submitted to a smothering hug from the proprietor. She called him a goot boy, and then sent them off to a table in the corner. Relief seeped through Gil as he claimed the most secluded chair.

Ognian finished his story, and launched right into ordering food for everyone. Oksana added on two plates of pierogis. Gil sat in silence, wondering how to start a conversation, when Oksana turned to him and said, “Iz goot hyu'z carryink on Katya’s legacy.”

Gil blinked at her. “Sorry, what?” He said, and immediately felt foolish.

Oksana gave him one of her rare smiles. “Ve vas four sisters,” she said, “brought to de Heterodyne for heez harem. Natya und Dina und hyself, ve reqvested de Jägerdraught instead. Dis amused de Heterodyne, but den he asked Katya if she also vanted de Jägerdraught. She said no, und dot she fancied Naomi, who vas also in de harem.”

“She vas a favorite right avay,” Ognian contributed, eager to help. Oksana nodded.

“Katya vas honest. Blunt. Old Dante liked dot, und he alvays brought her shiny tings. Gold. Jewels. Severed limbs. Katya gave all de jewels to Naomi. Vun day, brave Katya asked permission for de two of dem to marry. Dot day, de Heterodyne made a new law chust for dem.”

Gil chewed on this information, along with three pierogis. Finally he said, “Were they happy?”

“Yez. Katya und Naomi vas married for many years, onder de blessink of de Heterodyne. Dey even adopted Leedle Vladimus over dere.” Oksana nodded toward a gawkish Jäger who was cheating at pinwheel darts. “Raised heem up goot.”

Gil nodded, but his thoughts strayed elsewhere. “Why the big party?”

Ognian thumped him on the shoulder, and cheerfully explained that harem marriages were rare, and that someone—Dante, probably—had started a rumor that for every day that the city celebrated them, the couple in question would enjoy a year of bliss and good fortune. Gil wondered whether Dante had just made a clever excuse for future generations to continue to celebrate Katya and Naomi. He considered whether to pursue the topic further, but just then the crowd roared and cheered again. Gil froze, his attention fixed on the entrance, where Tarvek had just walked in beside a well-dressed man with a mechanical hand.

Oh, no.

Gil tried to sink into the shadows. Too late. Jorgi pointed him out, and Tarvek broke away from his questionable choice of company with a smirk. He navigated the midday crowd with ease, arriving too soon to stand with his hand on the back of Ognian’s chair.

“Hadrian sends his regards,” he said. “Also, he intends to give us an atrocity for a wedding gift. I think that’s a good thing?” This last he addressed to the Jägers, who nodded and agreed with enthusiasm.

“Hadrian?” Gil repeated blankly. He felt certain he had heard the name somewhere before. Tarvek rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, don’t you ever pay attention? Hadrian Greenclaw, the—”

“Aren’t the Greenclaws smugglers?” Gil interrupted.

“Oh, _that_ you know!” Laughing, Tarvek accepted the chair Ognian placed beside Gil. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.” But he meant it fondly, and Gil grinned at him.

Before Tarvek had a chance to sit, someone over near the bar yelled for the affianced couple to kiss. All of the Jägers eagerly took up the chant. Tarvek’s smile faded, and Gil cringed inwardly. Had he really been so aloof?

He looked around at the eager faces, all turned toward the two of them, most showing broad, sharp grins. He didn’t want to disappoint the Jägers, and, he admitted to himself, he didn’t want to disappoint Tarvek. He stood up. The Jägers roared.

“You don’t want to,” Tarvek whispered, trying to look more irritated than crestfallen.

Gil seized Tarvek by the lapels and pushed him against the table swiftly enough to make him gasp. “Don’t you tell me what I want to do,” he growled, letting the Spark resonate in his voice.

Tarvek’s breath hitched in that way that meant he struggled against making a noise, a groan or a sigh, or even a whimper. His tongue flicked against his lips, and he gazed across the tops of his glasses as though losing himself in what he saw when he looked upon Gil’s face. Gil felt his grip tightening. He would wrinkle Tarvek’s clothing, but in another moment neither of them would care.

“Tease,” Tarvek muttered, his voice coarse with desire. Gil realized then that he had forgotten the noise, the shouts and the cheering, the whistles and the stamping feet. He leaned a little closer, felt Tarvek’s breath warm his lips, and then they kissed.

The Jägers’ enthusiastic roar shook the entire building, but Gil was deaf to it. He felt Tarvek’s fingers slide along his jaw, drawing him closer yet before finding purchase in his hair. His heart still tumbled over itself at the way Tarvek touched him, half passion and half worship, and when they shared a kiss like this, he always managed to forget whatever had preoccupied him only moments before. When they shared a kiss like this, Gil knew that what they wanted of one another was the same: _need me like I need you._

Gil’s brain caught up to him as he started to fumble for the buttons of Tarvek’s waistcoat. He lowered his hands, and he took a step back. Smiling in an odd, contented way, Tarvek dropped into his chair and leaned his head back as though he found decent posture entirely too much work.

“Hooooo, yez,” Ognian said, grinning at the both of them. “Hy bet hyu'z goink _right home_ after dis.”

Crimson-faced, Gil sat.

Oksana pointed the disarticulated leg of some deep-fried arthropod at him. “Hyu'z a leedle like Katya, hy tink.” Gil knew that she meant it as a compliment, but he struggled to understand what similarities she saw.

“Don’t say I remind you of Naomi.” Tarvek reached for Gil’s beverage.

“No.” Oksana waited for him to take a drink. “Hyu'z much more like Dante,” she added, smiling her slow smile as she watched Tarvek choke on his effort not to spit ale across the table.

“Not you too!” Tarvek sputtered when he had air enough to complain. “The Castle insisted on telling me I’m wearing Bludtharst’s favorite color!”

“Hyu iz!” chorused every Jäger in earshot.

Tarvek grumbled, mostly for show, as he helped himself to the food on Gil’s plate. The Jägers laughed, in a good natured way, but Gil still sympathized. Attempting reassurance, he bumped his knee against Tarvek’s leg and gave him a small smile. Beneath the table, Tarvek caught his hand and interlaced their fingers. Above the table, two Jägers grinned at them.

Maybe this party thing wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
